Opening your eyes when you first wake up is one of the most bittersweet experiences ever. On the one hand, you didn't die in your sleep, which means your body must be doing something right; on the other, it's a Thursday morning and you don't feel like even bothering to move to get off your mattress. This is pretty much the first thing that runs through my head as I open my eyes, and I think it more often than you would think.
My cell phone is resting in lock mode on my chest, and I can feel it vibrate, notifying me of a text that I refused to pick up last night. I open it and see that she sent me another two texts before I fell asleep, and reading through them, I can't help but smile. She's telling me that she loves me, that she's dreaming of me, and that I never fail to make her smile, and my own smile never leaves my face as my feet make contact with my bedroom floor. This happens more often than you would think.
Walking to the connected bathroom, I catch the first glimpse of myself in the mirror and almost feel like crying out: purple sleep bags have made their way underneath my eyes and are dancing around as I blink like little Barney figurines. For some reason, I'm still wearing my slip-on DC's, yet my shirt must have found its way off my body at some point during the night. This happens more often than you would think.
The curtains are blocking whatever sunlight may be shining its way through my windows, so I have no clue what time it is or what I should do with my morning. I turn to the TV and I'm just settling down to watch whatever is closest on the DVR when I subconsciously check for my phone to reply to her. Just before I press the send button, I see the time: 3:47 A.M. I've been asleep for 3 hours. This happens more often than you would think.
Putting down the phone with the text unsent, I decide to kick back and watch Role Models before I shower, get ready for school, and comb my hair, trying to fight off its normal windswept state. Then I turn on It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and shoot her a quick text telling her I love her. The words have never really felt more real, and yet somehow, on the phone, they seem so small, so unworthy, compared to what I could tell her in person. These thoughts occur more often than you would think.
Never do I even wonder whether I should try and get some more sleep.